Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ASDISA; AN ICELANDIC LEGEND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Asdisa, daughter of th' icelandic chief
Last Line: Was singing. -- cruel asdisa, fair asdisa!
Subject(s): Legends, Icelandic


ASDISA, daughter of th' Icelandic chief,
Hrut by the Saga named, sat at her door
One summer's day eight hundred years ago,
Singing, and it was thus Asdisa sang: --

"Niord came, Niord
The old rough wind,
And Skadi slid
Adown the crags,
The frozen crags,

Till young Frey came,
And the ice-crags
Melted beneath
Her, and Niord
Fled, the rough wind."

And as she sang, the fierce Berserker passed,
Who was her father's bondman; he staying
His walk, gazed on her, listed the soft flow
Of her simple music, and love came
Like Frey upon old ice-crags to his heart,
Melting it into tenderness. "Woman,
The fierce wolf dies within me, and my spirit
Becomes a dove," he said, "listening to thee.
Thy father calls me bondman, yet is bound
More by my strength than I slaved by his gold;
And he shall listen to me whilst I pray,
Bargain for, nay, demand, Asdisa, thee, --
Fair for the strong, the strongest thine most fair."
She smiled a little cruel smile, she spake
Silver-sweet words untrue, then rose
And passed the Berserk to her home again.
But he, finding her father in the field,
Gently, yet proudly, as with right to ask,
Asked him for his Asdisa the most fair.
Hrut looked at him askance, feared the strong man.
Thought craftily, and said, "I will reward
Thee with her for a great work thou shalt do.
Hew me a road straight forward to the sea
From where we stand, heart-through yon rock between."
Then the Berserker felt his lion-rage
Of strength, not anger, come on him, and tore
Huge stone from huger base, as one might pull
Pebbles from gravelly heaps, throwing them wide,
Straight in at the rock's mouth which he had cloven,
On to the very heart cleaving his way,
Until night came with rest, and sleep, and flitting
Of spirits from the bodies of sleepers,
Each in its natural shape truth-carven.
So is it in dim Northland now as then.
A fox came out of Hrut, his wily soul,
Long-tailed and hairy, a low-bodied thing,
Smelling the ground, creeping from side to side
Warily, in dark places, and behold
From the fair maid's white bosom, dusky wings
Upheaved, and, falcon-head with greedy eyes.
She rose and flew, Asdisa, falcon-souled,
To where the Berserk lay, for she had thought
Of him ere sleeping, scornfully, saying:
"Shall my hand touch a slave's?" She flew through night,
And Hrut the fox-souled followed where she led.
At length they reached the defile where he lay,
Amongst th' uncertain shadows of rude stones
Heaped up and broken. There she stayed, and poised
Upon a rock, and sang in her own voice
Out of her falcon throat snatches of song:

"Summer woods,
Doves cooing;
Bitter floods,
Love's rueing.
Kill the dove
Where he coos,
Baby love,
Ere he rues."

She sang, and from the sleeping giant rose
A silver-winged dove beneath the moon,
Glanced by the singer like a living beam,
And flew into the leafy woods beyond.

Three days he worked, and slept three moonlit nights,
One with the sea's deep music in his ears,
And the fourth day-break stood upon the shore
'Midst creamy ripples, and a broad road stretched
From the free sea to fair Asdisa's home.
He went to meet her walking towards the sun,
To greet her with the day's first glory on him.
But wily Hrut, who day by day had watched
The giant Berserk trembling, was prepared
With wily welcome, having dug a deep
Cave, which he'd filled with water to the brim,
And hewn a stone to close the mouth of it.
So when the Berserk clasped his hand and claimed
His daughter, Hrut made answer, "Son, not slave,
I welcome you; but you are weary with toil,
And shall refresh your limbs ere fair Asdisa
Double my greeting." Then he led the man
To the cave's open mouth. "Plunge in," he said,
"And out that way where it shelves up to light."
There was no way but shelving down to night,
For Hrut first drew the grave-stone over him,
Then called Asdisa, and she came and stood
With him upon the cruel stone, and sang,
The sea behind, her fair face towards the sun.

"In the warm wood,
Frey, seven days,
Seven nights in the
Wood Barri,
Sighing for Gerd.

"Come to my arms,
Frey, my white
Gleaming arms,
Through fire,
Through flood,
To Frey's desire.

"On a gold hill
Sleeping, Odin
Found her.
To my white
Gleaming arms,
Come to my arms,
O Frey."

So did she sing, and the clear music fell
Thick-noted through the water on his brain,
And the Berserker saw her tender form
Beneath him; moving, melting upward through
The water, moving, melting down; and his
Arms clasped nothing, and his ears closed, and his
Eyes saw nothing, and he died whilst she
Was singing. -- Cruel Asdisa, fair Asdisa!








Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net